Three Christmases
by NCIS-SVUgurl
Summary: Christmas with the Burkes: past, (relative) present, and future. Three separate one-shots with one relationship: Christmas. Some Neal-whump in each chapter. Only spoilers for 6x6, and that's only in the third chapter. One chapter per day until Christmas day. Enjoy!
1. Relations Between Stairs & Concussions

**A.N.- Set a long time in the past. This does not follow along with the storyline (except for the third chapter), so if you're looking for time reference, let's say like season 2, like 2010. This will probably be the longest story of this three-shot. **

Tired. And cold. Cold and tired. That's all he knew. That's all he should know, honestly. Walking down the icy streets of New York at 6 A.M. tended to do that to people. But not Neal, typically that is. It probably just had to do something with the fact that today was Christmas Eve. Yeah, that pretty much did him in the moment he saw the calendar. But it should not have been any different than any other Friday out of the year.

This Christmas Eve was pretty much just the same as the last three. Mozzie, the only person next to June who still considered Neal family (in his mind, at least), had gone to Florida instead of staying in New York. Something about "needing the heat" and getting away from "The Man". Plus, he said he needed to get out of town for some reason that Neal would be better off not knowing about. Neal kind of tuned out the shorter man when he was on his tangent. They two had decided to skip presents this year. June was in California with her granddaughter sightseeing and enjoying the weather.

So, that left Neal. And after his bone-chilling walk to the office, he was silently dreading the work day to come. Surprisingly enough however, no work came. The group worked on filing and boxing up the latest case then moved on to cold cases, finishing most up around two in the afternoon.

Neal could not really focus on the paperwork in front of him. His mind kept drifting off to his Christmas present to Peter. It was two things; one, to catch him up on all of his paperwork, without him knowing of course; and two, a pair of tickets to the Yankees, front row and right behind home plate of course. Could not have anything less than the best for Peter. For El, Neal had gotten a pair of tickets to a museum opening in upstate New York. Could not have anything less than the classiest for Elizabeth. The three gifts were small enough that he could tuck them into his work suit and no one would notice a thing.

*********

It had been a phenomenal day for Special Agent Peter Burke. It was Christmas Eve, and he decided to let the team off three hours early. He forced himself to believe he had made the decision based on the fact there was a huge snowstorm blowing in, and it would be for everyone's safety to get home sooner rather than later. In all reality, it probably had something to do with the fact that there were absolutely no new cases; he was bored to tears and did not want to complete his large stack of paperwork leftover from the past, and he really wanted to get home for dinner with El. His sweet and wonderful wife.

The moment he made the announcement, all but two people scurried out the door; himself and Neal. He walked over to the CI and stood in front of his desk.

"Caffrey."

"Hm?" The man quietly replied. He was filling out one of his final reports. Peter felt a pang of shame, how could Neal be more productive than he had been? However, he pushed it down and made himself remember why he was there.

"What're you doing tonight?"

Neal was not caught off guard by the question. For the past three years he had been evading the annual Christmas Eve dinner with the Burkes. It was not that he did not enjoy the two, quite the opposite really, he just could not help but feel guilty when he intruded on them. Christmas is for family. "June is hosting a wonderful dinner with her granddaughter and invited me. Why?" He smoothly lied.

"Oh. Just wondering." Peter said with a dismissive hand. He stood up and pulled his coat on.

"When are you heading out for the night?"

"As soon as I grab my keys." He stated while heading back to his office.

"Cool." Neal muttered to himself, dotting his final i's and crossing his t's. He kept the file open and flipped back to the beginning, pretending to still be engrossed in the contents.

Peter began to walk towards the door that lead out of the office. "Need a ride?"

Neal glanced out the window behind him. "Uh, nah. It's not that bad yet, I'll just walk."

Peter stopped in his tracks and gave a disapproving glare. "Neal," he said in a warning tone.

"Peter." Neal mocked, the same glare etched on his face, but his with a glint of tease in his eyes.

The agent in question paused, trying to formulate a response, but gave in with a sigh. "Fine. Just- get out of here soon." He glanced out the window behind Neal, fat snowflakes beginning to fall down. "That storm is blowing in fast."

"Your concern is touching." Peters glare made Neal shrink back a bit. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be gone soon. Just have to tie up some loose ends."

Peter gave the don't-get-into-any-trouble look and finally left the office. Neal heaved a sigh of relief.

"Time to get to work." Neal muttered to himself, making his way to Burkes' office. He reached for the doorknob, only to discover that it was locked. "Silly, silly Peter." He sauntered over to Diana's desk, and slid open the drawer where he knew she kept her bobby pins. In seventeen seconds, a new personal record, he had the door open and the files out. He exited the small room, files in hand, and pulled the door shut behind him.

Neal slaved away over the paperwork, wishing upon a star that the endless pile would somehow manage to do itself. How Peter had gotten stuck with the most boring cases, Neal would never know. He had to pause often in his labors to rub his eyes, and even to turn on the lamp next to his desk, the only light in the entire office now. The sun had quickly disappeared and the snow was falling now, winds howling right behind his desk.

When the CI heard the elevator ding, his stomach dropped three floors and he felt his eyes open big in shock. He quickly jumped under his desk. Silently, he scolded himself for such a childish reaction, but it was for good reason.

Peter Burke walked with purpose through the nearly pitch-black office. Taking the stairs two at a time, he was at his office door in the blink of an eye. He placed one hand on the handle and the other in his coat pocket to pull his keys out. Something made him stop though; the fact that the handle was loose made his eyebrow arch and he pulled the door open.

_Thought I locked it._ Peter thought to himself. He glanced around behind him, getting an eerie feeling that made the hairs on his neck stand up on end. _Wonder what Caffrey's doing._ He retrieved what he had come back to the office for, then slowly began to walk out, stopping at the top of the stairs. There was a lone light on in the entire office, and it was the light located on Neal's desk. It seemed to be bright as ever. A half-smile appeared on Peter's face, and he returned to his office. 

He picked up the phone and dialed Elizabeth's number. "Hi hon," he whispered after she picked up. "We might actually have that guest we talked about." She replied by telling him that she would have another place set at the table, quickly adding a "be safe on the drive home" before hanging up.

Peter quietly padded down the stairs and over to Neal's desk, plucking up a certain black fedora on the way. He stood in front of the workspace for a few seconds, glancing down at what was left. One lone file was opened and it's contents were splayed across it. _James Bader_ the title stated. _This was one of my files. _Peter thought as he walked around to the other side of the desk and sat down in the chair. He immediately looked down to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him in shock in the dim light.

Peter pursed his lips after a slight stare down between the two men. "What're you doing?"

"How did you know?" Neal quipped after a sigh, not moving from his scrunched up position.

"You're light was the only one on in the entire office."

"And that led you to sitting in the chair?"

"That, and you never leave this behind, do you?" He gently tossed down the hat to him with a spin. "Not your smoothest con. Are we really getting that sloppy?"

Neal smirked. "You wish." He began to climb out from underneath the desk. Peter shifted the chair back to give him room, but did not stand up.

"So you're doing my work, huh?" A playful smile on his lips.

Neal was faced away from the light by looking down at the floor, that way the older man could not see the flush on his cheeks. "It was supposed to be part of your Christmas present." He picked the fedora up and placed it on his head with as much grace as usual. "Surprise."

"Oh." Peter's smile dropped as a small amount of guilt set in the pit of his stomach. "Regardless, come on. It's five; call it a night. I'll give you a ride home."

"Don't worry about it Peter, the weather isn't that bad yet."

"I beg to differ." He gestured to the window. Snow was falling down at a heavy rate, and then wind blew it about like paper in a tornado. With that, the two men exited the building, and began the drive home. It was completely and utterly silent until the driver made a move that confused the other.

"You should've turned right back there to get to June's." Neal stated, jutting his thumb in the correct direction.

"I know." Peter's eyes never left the road and his hands never left the steering wheel.

Neal cocked an eyebrow and faced forward, watching the thick snow blow viciously onto the windshield with no remorse. "How am I getting home then?"

"You'll see." Neal rolled his eyes at his response. He hated when Peter was ambiguous.

It was not long before they pulled up in front of the Burke's home. Peter cut the power on the vehicle and climbed out, with his partner following in suite. A small smile appeared on Neal's lips at what was happening.

"Come on Caffrey." Peter stated, grabbing Neal's arm after he had crossed the car and the con had shoved his hands in his pockets. He gingerly stepped further onto the sidewalk. "You're not letting this old man fall."

"You're not old." Neal said with a laugh.

They were in the clearing for the house. Peter released the arm of the man standing next to him, and put a hand on the rail. Neal left his hands in his pockets. "Finally to safety." The older man said with a laugh.

Peter slowly placed his foot on the fourth step, just for it to swing out under him after landing on a thick patch of ice. Neal watched in slow motion as his friend toppled backwards, and fell against him, shoving him to the ground. Neal thrashed, trying to get his hands out of his pockets to catch him from the fall, but to no avail. His head cracked against the pavement, and his breath rushed out of his body when a heavy object landed on top of his body.

He must of blacked out for a few seconds, because the object was too soon off of his body, he was staring at the snowing sky, and there was a feminine voice. "Peter! Oh my God, are you okay? Neal!" She sounded miles away for some reason. He continued staring at the snow, flakes large and small coating his hair and eye lashes.

"Careful hon, the fourth step is total ice." The muffled and warped sound of Peters voice resonated in his ears. "Just stay there."

Neal's muddled mind barely connected the realization that he was being shook by Peter. "Come on Caffrey. Let's get inside." 

He hauled himself up, closing his eyes momentarily to try and stop the dizziness. The two made it up the stairs and into the house without any other incidents.

Dinner was wonderful going down. Conversations were light hearted and fun, and the food was absolutely divine. But the pounding in Neal's head was becoming impossible to ignore and it was slowly but surely becoming more and more unbearable, and now that headache was messing with his all-too-full stomach. The man had done an astonishing job at acting fine, although Elizabeth kept asking if he was okay. It was not until they began watching _Home Alone_ (according to Elizabeth, the only decent Christmas movie on right now) that he finally got up the courage to do something about it.

"Restroom." Neal simply stated in response to the inquisitive glances he received. He quickly walked over to the stairs and up them, stopping just close enough to the top that they could no longer see his figure, and he knelt down on the top step and put his head in his hands, willing the black spots that were dancing in front of his vision to dissipate.

While finishing his trek to the bathroom, Neal had to use the wall for assistance. His legs did not want to co-operate and the closer he got to the small room the bigger the spots in his line of sight. He let out a quiet sigh when he stumbled into the room and quietly shut the door with a _click _behind him, leaning against it. Turning on the light, he winced at the brightness of the fluorescent bulbs. He padded over to the toilet and sat down on the closed seat, putting his head between his knees to get some blood flowing back to where he desperately needed it to be.

Neal sat up slowly and inhaled and exhaled, but the screaming in his head and the churning in his stomach was not a good combination not matter what he did to quell it; and in one fell swoop, he had turned on the faucet to the highest setting and was on his knees in front of the now open toilet emptying the contents of his stomach.

After he flushed the toilet and got to a somewhat steady position leaning on the sink, he stared into the mirror for a few moments, taking in his rough appearance. Neal tried to force thoughts to coherently pass through his muddled and pounding head. _Nausea, dizziness, and a never-ending headache. Sounds like I have a concussion. Wonderful. _Prior to rummaging through the medicine cabinet to find a bottle of Advil, he turned the faucet down to a lower setting. Pouring out three of the capsules into his open palm, he placed the bottle back to its original location, shutting the cabinet. He tossed back the tablets and filled his hands with water to get them to go down. He splashed some of the cold water on his face and dried off, adjusting his suit and hair before heading back downstairs.

The second his foot hit the bottom stair, he knew he would be in for a rough night. "You okay, Neal?" Elizabeth questioned, taking in his look. It was pristine, almost too perfect. The two remained in their place on the couch though, with Peters arms wrapped around her waist and she leaning against him.

He plastered on his award-winning smile. "Yeah, why?" He knew he needed to keep his responses short and simple.

She tilted her head slightly. "You sure?"

He just nodded in response, taking his place on the other couch. They continued the rest of the movie and started the next one: _The Polar Express_. Neal silently thanked whoever would listen that El had chosen ABC Family for their Christmas Eve movies, for they rarely ever played _It's a Wonderful Life_; he had worried coming in to this that if they did, he would not be able to handle it. His mind drifted away from the movie, and he ended up staring at the Christmas tree that was wonderfully lit and, now that the medication had kicked in, not that painful to look at. His thoughts varied all over the place, but eventually it landed on who he was spending this holiday with. He could not believe that these two wonderful people would take him in like this. That is when the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. _You have overstayed your welcome. Leave as soon as possible. _The clock chimed at midnight, and a small smile crept its way on to Neal's face when both Elizabeth and Peter jerked awake, but Satchmo could not be bothered to even open his eyes.

"Wow, it's that late?" Elizabeth commented with a yawn and a stretch, jostling the dog enough to wake him.

"How long were we out?" Peter asked, rubbing his eyes then facing Neal.

"A while." Neal said with a light laugh.

Elizabeth turned around to face the window. "Oh, that storm is really ripping, huh?"

"Yeah. I couldn't believe it could get any worse but it just kept going." Neal stood up, stretched, and used the side of the couch to guide him over to the front door where his coat was hanging.

"Excuse me, Neal. Where do you think your going?" Elizabeth continued, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Home?" He inwardly cursed himself for making it more of a question then a statement.

She was wide awake at that. "No you most certainly are not. Not with the weather like it is."

Neal looked at Peter for help, who was turning off the TV.

"Sorry buddy, she makes the rules." He replied to the helpless look with a shrug and a smile.

Elizabeth smiled at her husbands response. "You know where the guest bedroom is, there is an extra pair of sweats for you to sleep in." She began to walk up the stairs, Peter following right behind.

Neal put his coat back on the hook, another small smile now dancing on his lips. "Thanks, and Merry Christmas." He murmured the latter part.

Elizabeth stopped in her walking up the stairs and turned to look down at Neal. "No one should be alone on Christmas." She gave him a smile, and there was a twinkle of sadness in her eyes.

He could not make eye contact with either of them as they finished walking up the stairs.

Neal set an alarm every hour to make sure the concussion did not knock him out for good. Around 6 in the morning, he got tired of waking up and decided to get up for good. After retrieving some more Advil, he quietly padded downstairs to the kitchen, started up some coffee, and placed his gifts under the Christmas tree next to a few presents already there. One specific beautifully wrapped box caught his eye, primarily because it had the name Neal attached to it.

He smiled, and decided to do add little more to the Burke's present. They had done so much for him, it's time he returned the favor. He went upstairs, put on another pair of sweats, returned back downstairs, and rummaged through the closet near the doorway for a large coat and a pair of boots and gloves. Lucky for him, they were just his size, if not a little bigger. He took a glance downwards at his appearance. He looked like a burnt marshmallow, but it would have to do. Neal grabbed the snow shovel placed on the shelf above, and headed outside to begin his work.

It was an hour and a half or so later when he was halted in his labors. "Neal Caffrey!" A voice resonated through his frozen ears. He looked up to see Peter, standing in his robe in the doorway.

"What?"

"What're you doing?"

Neal looked at the snow shovel in his hand and gestured to it. "What does it look like I'm doing?" It would not be that bad of a response, if Neal's teeth would just _stop chattering_.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Get in here!"

Neal followed the orders, dropping off the boots in the doorway as to not trace in any snow. Elizabeth helped him peel off the rest of the layers.

"Why are you shoveling us out?" Elizabeth asked, hanging up the coat and gloves. "There's gotta be at least a foot if not two of snow on the ground!"

He put his hand to his temple, gently rubbing. He eventually managed, through chattering teeth, to spit out the word "present".

"Well thanks, but that was not necessary, especially with the freezing temperatures." Peter gestured Neal to come into the living room where the tree was. "Come on, let's warm you up and open some presents!"

Neal squinted harder the more he walked into the house. "Why is it so bright in here?"

"It's not." Peter replied with a questioning tone.

They all sat down and began opening gifts. Neal kept rubbing his head, for a headache was beginning to form again. He did not want to make a scene about it though, and he continued to try and convince himself that it was the fact that he went from the extreme cold temperatures outside to the warm house inside.

Elizabeth and Peter were on the floor at Neal's feet, playing with some Lego's that she thought Peter would enjoy building. Satchmo jumped up and laid his head on Neal's leg, sighing.

"Aw good boy, Satch!" She looked up at the the blue-eyed man, whose face was in his hands. "Neal, sweetie, what's wrong?" Elizabeth's concerning voice asked as she place a hand on his knee.

He nearly jumped at the physical touch. The lack of sleep seemed to make him very sensitive to nearly everything. He dropped his hands and forced that smile on to his face. "Nothing!" He quickly covered.

"Don't lie to me. You're face is still very flush!"

It only took Peter ten seconds to connect the dots. The rubbing of his temples, the light bulbs, the mysterious fact that he turned on the faucet when he went to the restroom the night before- he looked over at his partner. "You have a concussion, don't you?"

Neal paused, pursing his lips, then finally held out his index and his thumb, holding them about an inch apart. "Just like this much of one."


	2. The Relationship Between Stars & Wrists

**A.N.- As said in the summary, this is in the relative present. Time reference, let's say like 2013. Sorry that the character's turned out a little more OOC in the end. Enjoy, and feel free to leave some reviews! Merry Christmas Eve!**

"Last time I spent Christmas Eve with you, I don't recall being in charge of the decorating." Neal said with a grin.

"Well we always save the star for Christmas Eve. Last time you spent Christmas Eve with us, you weren't here yet." Peter responded with a laugh as his partner climbed further up the ladder that was precariously centered near the tree. "And besides- cowboy up, Caffrey."

Neal cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes, giving the best physical impression for the word "seriously?".

"Are you sure it's safe for him to be up there?" Elizabeth asked, concern lacing her voice.

Peter waved her words away. "Of course it is. It's not _that _old of a ladder."

"Fine. I'm going to go get hot chocolate started for when you boys are done!" She said, making sure she was loud enough for Neal to hear her.

As soon as his wife left, Peter grabbed the finishing touch to the tree and began climbing up the steps, bright star topper in hand.

Neal was sitting at the very top, feet resting on the stair directly below. "Aw, you're going to walk it all the way up to me? I'm touched."

Peter snickered. "Yeah, don't get used to it."

Neal reached down and got it from him, standing back up and straddling the two sides of the ladder with his feet to place it on top of the very large tree. Peter held onto the ankle of his partner as he leaned precariously against the wall on his tip-toes. After it was placed, the older man began scaling back down the ladder, laughing at the way Neal was sitting at the very top. He stopped midway when a large crack was heard. Neal looked down at the sound, his face colored with concern. Peter took another step down when an even louder crack was heard, and he looked up just in time to see the side of the ladder to snap.

"Neal," Peter whispered.

It was not but a few seconds later when the ladder came crashing down with a thud, throwing both men off. Peter had jumped off just in time and landed on his rear end, but Neal was not so lucky. He was too high up, and with the way he was sitting, he could not think of a way to stop the fall in time. He fell over on his side, his wrist catching him with a definite snap. Neal was silently happy that he was facing away from Peter, it gave him time to allow his face to scrunch up in pain.

"Shit!" Peter cursed under his breath. He crawled quickly over to Neal's side. "You okay? Neal?"

The man in question rolled over onto his back, keeping his wrist cradled across his body. "Yeah. Fine." He spat out.

"What are you guys-" Elizabeth walked back in, Satchmo at her side. She took in the broken ladder and the two men on the floor. "What happened?"

Neal's blue eyes opened wide and spoke quickly. "My fault!"

"What are you talking about? That ladder's so old I shouldn't of been on it with you!" Peter argued.

"Boys!" Elizabeth snapped her fingers. That got both of their attentions. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, I think so." Peter continued. He stood and offered Neal a hand, which he took, not moving his left hand from his chest. He brushed some of the dust off of himself and his partner.

Elizabeth looked at her husband. "Clean this up." She smiled at the tree. "At least the star's on top, right?"

The three shared a small laugh and

"Neal are you sure you're okay?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Yeah, why?"

"You're hand hasn't left your stomach since you fell." Peter finished for her.

"It's fine!" Neal quickly covered, but Peter was taking large steps towards him.

"Give it." He calmly said.

"No!"

"Just let me see it-" Peter grabbed his wrist and Neal let out a yelp of pain.

He looked at Peter with wide eyes. "It's fine?"

"It's broken isn't it?"

Neal fell shockingly quiet, and looked at his wrist.

Elizabeth practically dropped the tray of cookies on the counter. "Neal what did I tell you about lying to me?"

Neal floundered even more at that.

Peter began walking towards the front door, with Elizabeth in suite. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital."

"What? No hospitals! You didn't make me go to the hospital last time!"

"We didn't make you go to the hospital last time because you convinced us there was nothing they could do for the concussion." Peter said while he pulled on his coat. "There is something they can do about your wrist."

Neal rolled his eyes and walked over to the two. "Give in, sweetie, it'll make it a lot easier." Elizabeth said, holding Neal's coat out for him so she could drape it over his shoulders. He sighed as he allowed her to put it on him. "I'll stay and finish making dinner." The Burke's gave each other a goodbye kiss and with that, the two men were off.

They spent a solid three and a half hours in the ER. By the time the two were leaving, Peter's stomach could be heard growling from a mile away. They climbed into his vehicle; the car filled with quietly playing Christmas music. Neal stayed looking out the window, a semi-sad look on his face.

Peter turned off the radio. "You in pain?" He asked, taking a sideways glance at the passenger.

Neal shook his head. "No." He mumbled. The medication he was on was strong, and he was finding it harder and harder to keep up the act. The loopiness was setting in, and he was worried he would say the wrong thing.

Peter was starving at this point, and was in no mood to beat around the bush. "What's wrong then?"

Neal flinched back. "Nothing." He said quietly. He yawned a few minutes later, and shrunk back in his seat even more when, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the driver's eyes role.

The older man heaved an angry sigh, and they finished the ride home in complete silence. "El! We're home!"

"I'm in the kitchen! Just sit in the living room, dinner'll be ready soon!"

Peter sat down, but Neal stayed standing. _You should leave. You've already pissed off one of the hosts, don't make it two. _The drugs were really kicking in now.

"You gonna sit?" Peter brought him out of his reverie.

"Um, no, I was just going to head on out." He gestured towards the door with his sling.

Elizabeth walked in just in time to hear that. She set the hors d'oeuvres she had in her hands down on the coffee table. "Head out where?" Peter stood from his position on the couch, completely forgetting about his appetite.

"June's?" Neal's voice was getting thick and he was getting really tired. _Where else would I be going? _

"Why would you be going to June's? You're having dinner with us."

Neal opened his mouth, but Peter interrupted him. "Yeah, and besides June's not even home. So don't try and say that you're having dinner with her."

"You know I've overstayed my welcome. And I ruined your Christmas. Again. Don't lie to me and pretend you want me around." Neal sighed. "I forgot your presents."

"What?" The both replied in unison.

"I said I forgot your presents." His voice was drifting off even more, and his eyelids were just so heavy.

"No, before that." Peter said, but Neal just gave a confused look in response. "About you ruining our Christmas?" He prompted.

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did, sweetie." Elizabeth continued.

"You are mistaken El. I didn't say that out loud." His smile was faint and his eyes were cloudy, and it took a few seconds for him to comprehend their questioning looks. "I didn't say that out loud, did I?" The two nodded their heads in agreement. Neal pursed his lips. "Whoops. You know those doctors need to loosen up on the drugs." He offered an awkward laugh then began walking towards the door.

"No, Neal you're not leaving." Peter stepped between the younger man and the door, guilt setting into his stomach.

"You ever notice how the last two Christmases I've been around you two I end up screwing everything up?" Neal placed his good hand over his mouth. "I need to stop talking. Goodbye."

"Sweetie, no, both of the things that happened were accidents! They were not your fault!" El pulled him into a hug, trying to keep the tears from falling. He stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond, but returned the notion nonetheless with a dazed look in his eyes. When they pulled off, the younger man yawned. "You're not leaving. We want you here. We always have. Do you understand Neal Caffrey?"

Neal was not entirely sure what she was talking about now, but for some reason his muddled mind told him to nod in agreement.

"Peter, come help me in the kitchen. Why don't you take a nap, Neal? We'll wake you when it's ready."

Peter helped his wife lead Neal to the couch and lay down, covering him with a blanket.

"Merry Christmas, Neal." She kissed him on the forehead.

"Merry Christmas, buddy." Peter ruffled his hair. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Peter." He mumbled his response. "Merry Christmas."


	3. Relations Between Caffrey & the Burkes

**A.N.- Thank you for the reviews. And a Merry Christmas to all.**

It is currently 32 degrees Fahrenheit in New York, and snow flakes are gently falling down one by one, catching on any object that they touch and sticking to them like glue. The snow is piled high on the grassy areas where it has been plowed, but with this current light snow, there is no need to remove it right away, especially on Christmas Eve. The snow is only half an inch deep at most, just enough of a dusting to make everything seem a bit more magical. It is not a harsh, bone chilling temperature but, surprisingly enough, a rather nice one. It is cold enough to make a person more alert, and yet the lack of wind chill eliminates any possibility of obsessive teeth chattering. The wrist watch reads 7:28 P.M and underneath in even tinier black letters reads the date- 12/25/2018. It is as completely and utterly silent in the neighborhood as it can be in New York, which sets him on edge a little, but at the same time it reminds him how peaceful this time of year truly is, even in a city that never stops moving.

He stands outside the white home in his black peacoat, scarf, and fedora, taking in all the decorations. From the holiday lights on the windows and around the door, to the red and green garland that weaves through the fencing in front of him, creates the ever so festive mood; it all fits in so perfectly with the rest of the city. From his position directly in front of the home, he can see into the living room and dining room. In the living room, there is a huge green tree, covered in all the ornaments, tinsel, trimmings, and sparkle as per usual, with that same yellow star topping it off.

Past the living room into the dining, there is a family gathered around a table filled with candles and food: an older man with eyes filled with wisdom beyond his years; a woman who, just by her physique, is brimming with love; and a young boy, roughly six years of age, eyes wide with innocence and hope and curiosity and, dare he think, mischief. A golden retriever sits at the foot of the table, fur coat thinned out with age but still as soft and luxurious as ever. A smile dances across his face as he remembers the times with the young boys parents. He then makes a mental remark about how much the young boy looks like his parents; he has his father's face and his mother's eyes.

He opens the fence and begins to climb the stairs, tucking the presents for each member of that family under his arm. He pulls off one of his gloves and lifts his fist to knock on the door, but drops it at the very last second. His mind and heart are both racing, and he makes the split-second decision that this is not what he wants to do. So he puts his other glove back on and sets the gifts down on the front stoop, beginning with the large square gift with a bow on top, then stacking the smaller rectangle box on top of that, and finally finishing with the three envelopes.

He gently lifts off his hat, one of his only trademarks left, and twirls it in his hand a couple of times. He brushed off the top of it, then sits it on the stack of presents. After knocking on the door, he quickly turns on his heel and high tails it down a few homes to an alley in between two buildings. He leans against the home and releases a shaky sigh. A pang of regret sets into the pit of his stomach. He had run. Again.

The older gentleman from the dining room opens the door and looks around, trying to figure out where the noise came from. His gaze eventually leads to the ground in front of him, where a stack of presents lay and, more specifically, a black fedora lay on top.

"Who was it?" A feminine voice asks as she enters the foyer, but he does not answer her as is already sitting down on the second to bottom step and is preoccupied with pulling on his shoes. "Hon, where did those come from?" She points at the wrapped boxes.

Her husband just holds up the hat with tight fingers curled around that had been sitting next to him on the steps. The gesture elicits a gasp from her. She grabs his coat and holds it open for him as he slides it on. "I'll be back." He says, more certainty in his voice then there had been all day.

He runs out of the house, barely closing the door behind him as he jumps down the stairs two at a time. Looking left and right, he realizes that there is no one else outside. He mutters a curse under his breath, glancing down to see the footprints in the snow, ever so faintly outlined by the houses decorative lights. The taller man follows them for about four houses, when they abruptly stop and take a harsh right. He crosses his fingers and holds his breath, taking that final step around the corner.

A single ray of light from the Rudolph statue made of lights nearby shines weakly down the alley way, barely giving shape to a masculine figure. "Neal?" The older gentleman whispers hopefully into the dark alley.

A pair of icy blue eyes twinkle up in the dim light. The shorter man takes a step forward. "Merry Christmas, Peter." Neal whispers back.

Peter's smile could be seen a mile away. "It's good to see ya, buddy." He lets out a laugh that sounds more like a choked sob. He takes one solid stride and embraces his old partner. "Welcome home." He says, not bothering to hold back the few hot tears that race down his cheeks. Neal stiffens at first, but eventually relaxes and hugs him back, a few tears falling down his own face.

And the snow continues to fall lightly around them, oblivious to what is happening.


End file.
